The Castle

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The Castle Page 10

by J. B. Michaels


  The drops that pelted Bud earlier returned. A steady rain fell from the night sky. The surface of the boulders Bud used to aid his climb turned slimy and slippery. Bud climbed higher to the orange glow.

  Eventually, the generous incline ended. A jagged steep row of rock impeded his progress. Another puff of fog rolled out from just over his head. Bud lifted the walking stick high, and the tip top turned orange.

  He lowered the stick. Then stared at it.

  “Worth a shot.”

  Bud grabbed three bolts from his bag.

  He held the stick like a crossbow. The enchanted walking stick responded and transformed. Bud loaded the first bolt and aimed it at a vertical crack in the rock face. The bolt bounced off the rock and down the steep incline.

  “Shit.” Bud attempted to load another bolt.

  The bolt floated from his hand and loaded itself as if by magic.

  “What?! Oh, right. Enchanted ancient weapon that appeared from the root of a tree. Why would I expect anything different?”

  The crank of the crossbow moved and locked. The crossbow was ready to shoot.

  “Thank you, dear crossbow. I shall call you Cranky the crossbow. Appropriate? I think so too.” Bud aimed again. Shot.

  Another bolt bounced off the rock.

  “Not working.”

  The crossbow vibrated. The third bolt flew off his palm, and the crank sounded in seconds. Another bolt ready.

  “Whoa. Cranky, I apologize. Please do be patient with me. I am a novice, you know. I will be more careful. I am talking at a crossbow. Oh dear.” Bud moved the barrel closer to the crack and shot.

  The bolt jutted from the vertical crack in the rock face. A perfect grip to climb. Bud shot two additional bolts from Cranky, then threw Cranky up the rock face, which turned back into stick form in midair.

  Bud gripped the bolt grips and climbed up the rock face. The intense core workout from climbing made his sore, bruised ribs ache even more. He pulled himself up to the top of the rock face and rolled onto his back. He was bathed in orange light.

  Cranky rolled and hit him in the head.

  “Fine, I will get up. I wanted a quick break. Jeez.” Bud stood up, grabbed Cranky, and looked for the source of the light.

  The glow emanated from a cave entrance. A natural vent for their steel-making which Ivy had informed they were engaged in.

  Ivy. I am about to enter the castle below the room you are in. It is a vent as you said. A natural one, though, a cave, it appears. I shall be with you shortly. How is it going up there? Ivy? Come in. Over. OH, see, now you have me doing it? Ha!

  Bud waited a few seconds but still nothing. He didn’t waste any more time. Into the cave he went.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  GRAND ENTRANCE

  Maeve sat on a rock next to the path that led to the drawbridge. The monk of the Order examined her gladius. The edges were sharp, and the point sufficiently shaved for efficient, repeated thrusts. She dipped the sword into water and recited a blessing. When she raised the sword, a yellowish glow emanated from the blade, indicating its new status. She held the sword in her right hand.

  Weapon ready.

  She looked to the drawbridge and gripped her crucifix. The misty rain would make this difficult, but she remained confident in her ability. She walked the path. She drew closer to the drawbridge and subsequent drop into the moat.

  The first round fired from atop the gatehouse above the drawbridge. Maeve saw the flash and heard the subsequent bullet hit the ground next to her. She ran towards the castle. The loud guns roared. They pelted her path. Maeve zigzagged as much as she could without tripping on the rocks that lined either side of the path. The fall to the moat neared. She gained more speed running a straight line, risking a bullet hitting its target.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus! What am I doing?” Maeve jumped over the moat, sword held high above her head.

  The loud firing from above the closed drawbridge ceased. The airtime felt like it lasted forever. Maeve watched for the wooden planks of the bridge to get closer. She drove the blade into the wood. She gripped the sword’s handle so hard it formed two blisters on both hands.

  Maeve released one hand and held on tight with the other. Her location was about two thirds of the way down on the vertical drawbridge. The moat below was not a typical moat. She noticed protruding spikes, and it bubbled like a cesspool.

  The monk grabbed her crucifix. Her plan could still work. She prayed. Perhaps it had a higher chance of succeeding now with her sword penetrating into dry wood. Maeve’s dangling body weighed more and more the longer it took for the fire to start. She attempted to use her elemental power of fire on the drawbridge. The spot where the tip of her sword stabbed the wood sparked but went out.

  “Oh please. Please, Lord. Please.” She prayed again. She gripped her crucifix tight. She closed her eyes. The fingers on her right hand started to slip ever so slightly from the gladius’s handle.

  She opened her eyes. More sparks filled the air and floated into the mist only to be extinguished with nary a second of life.

  “Come on!”

  The yellow glow of the blade mixed with another color—red-orange. The fire Maeve so desired started inside the door. She prayed again. More sparks. Now splinters of wood joined the show. She smelled the wood burning and smiled.

  The sword’s hold on the door weakened, and Maeve quickly grabbed the fiery hole with her bare hands. The flames didn’t seem to bother her. She pulled herself into an ever-widening hole. She lowered the sword and climbed into the gatehouse.

  Luckily, the fall to the stony ground of the gatehouse floor didn’t present any problems like the fall to the moat would have. Maeve patted the ground in comfort then stood up. The next door would be easily dispatched using the same method. Two torches lined both side walls of the gatehouse. She wouldn’t even need to use her own powers. Maeve moved farther into the gatehouse.

  A burning sensation on Maeve’s back began and then grew worse and worse. She threw off her leather jacket and threw it on the ground. Above Maeve were a series of holes in the ceiling where hot, boiling liquid poured from. Murder holes.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  STEALTHY SLEUTH

  Bud’s forehead dripped with sweat. He went from being dreadfully cold to extremely warm in seconds. The orange-lit cave acted as a natural sauna for any of its dwellers. Another hot puff of steam billowed through the cave. Bud needed to get out of the hot cave, and quickly. He ran farther in, and three openings in the cave floor marked a path to the darkened back wall. The closest of the openings was the one the steam billowed from. The other two were probably just for room ventilation. The light originated from these openings.

  Bud jumped over the steamy vent. This side of the cave did seem considerably cooler. He overheard voices and noise from below. Bud knelt down next to the middle vent.

  “Old man, it is time. Send one of these infernal machines to our test location.” It was Vincentas or the artist known as Evince. Bud’s angle was such that with Vincentas’s back turned, he obscured whomever he talked to.

  Bud couldn’t hear the old man’s response. Too soft of a voice.

  “Yes, Chicago. Have them eliminate those pesky monks there and come right back. Time to start the elimination protocol.”

  Bud again couldn’t hear the old man.

  Bud moved to the third vent nearest the back wall to get a better angle. Tables, work stations, junk, weapons, and other things filled the dungeon. Bud could see a series of what looked like mannequins in the back corner. Two red lights blinked on in one of the mannequins.

  Bud knew those eyes.

  Bert.

  The steam was from making the steel necessary to build more Berts. An army of Bert bots, Bud’s friendly robotic companion, could be used as killers.

  “It is of no matter if the skin isn’t ready. Just see if these idiot students programmed it to my specifications!”

  Bud scanned the room from his wider overhead
angle. The group of abducted students were huddled into a corner near a hall of prisons.

  The corrupted Bert bot moved toward Vincentas. He could see the side of the vampire’s face now, but the old man was still partially blocked from view.

  “Send him now!” Vincentas yelled.

  The Bert bot vanished from the dungeon.

  “Oh shit,” Bud said then covered his mouth.

  Vincentas looked around. “Did it make it?”

  “Yes,” the old man said, his voice vaguely familiar.

  “Good. I have no more use for you.” Vincentas lunged at the old man.

  The old man’s scream turned into a high-pitched gargle. Vincentas feasted on his blood. Bud had never seen anything like it. His stomach lurched.

  Bud looked away. He needed to get to a phone or some communication device to warn Father Quinn and Padre Martinez of their impending doom.

  “Students, get over here. Start activating more of these things and send them to all the spots the Order of St. Michael protects with the same directive: kill the Order.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  LAMENT

  “My dear Ivy, please, you must drink this.” Bela handed Ivy a glass of blood.

  Ivy reached for her neck as she lay on another bed.

  “Ah, be careful. I just stitched it up. You do need to drink this, or otherwise you will grow very sick, very quickly,” Bela pleaded with her.

  Ivy couldn’t believe that she actually thought the cup of blood looked delectable.

  “Bela, Bela, Bela, don’t help her. She doesn’t deserve the help. Get out of here, Bela. I am sure there is something else you have to screw up. Leave her to me,” a feminine voice called out from the doorway of what looked like a hospital room.

  Ivy sat up and looked around, again having woken in another room in the castle. There was another patient with them on the other side of the room, unconscious.

  “Elizabeth don’t do this,” Bela pleaded with the woman. Bela looked at Ivy and winked. He handed Ivy the cup of blood, and with his other hand, dropped a small packet on Ivy’s stomach.

  “Leave. Us. Bela. Now,” Elizabeth said.

  Bela walked out of the room.

  Ivy gulped the cup of blood, grabbed the packet Bela had dropped, and put it in her pocket.

  “I warned you. That was me, telling you not to trust him, but no, you had to stay. I told you to get out, and now you are just his latest sex slave. I guess I am no longer fit for the role.” Elizabeth walked closer.

  Ivy noticed a nasty burn scar across her face from her left cheekbone to her neck.

  Maeve leapt up through one of the murder holes, one that had finally stopped dropping liquid. She pulled herself up. The upper gatehouse room was devoid of life; the only sound was the gurgling of the automated hoses that spewed hot liquid into the chamber below.

  Bud. Maeve. I am in an infirmary of some sort. I have been bitten by a vampire, and I think I am a vampire. More pressing issue, there is a jealous female in here ready to kill me. In about three seconds, I will scream as loud as I can. I hope one of you can hear me and that you are here.

  Ivy. I am ready for your scream. Hang in there. I fought that nasty bitch last night. I am ready for round two.

  Maeve. Ivy. I am below in the cave above the dungeon. I know now of their nefarious plan. We have to warn the monks of the Order everywhere especially in Chicago. They sent one Bert bot to kill Father Quinn and Martinez already. More Bert bots are getting ready to teleport to other locations the Order protects.

  “Bud. Maeve. I know where a phone is. I called my dad from a phone in the dining room. Screaming now!

  The loud, raspy scream sounded from the west wing of the castle. Maeve ran down the steps of the gatehouse then hung a left towards Ivy’s scream.

  Ivy pushed the pillow away from her face. Elizabeth was trying to smother her. Ivy felt weak. She’d just suffered a major neck wound and had lost a great deal of blood. She didn’t know how long she could fight.

  “Just let me put you at ease. You don’t want this life. Trust me.” Elizabeth, in a mounted position above Ivy, tried to wrangle the wiry new vampire to the bed.

  Ivy gasped for air as Elizabeth squeezed her sides with her thighs.

  “Oh, fine. I wanted to knock you out before I did this, but to hell with it.” Elizabeth brandished a wooden stake.

  Ivy grabbed at her hand.

  “Drop the stick, Lizzy.” Maeve’s voice sounded from the doorway.

  “You!” Elizabeth jumped off Ivy.

  “Call information and ask for Bannockburn Seminary in Glasgow. Go, Ivy. Go!” Maeve yelled.

  Ivy gathered her strength and ran past Maeve and Elizabeth and down the hall to the dining room.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  FOUND

  Bud gripped his crucifix. He prayed and concentrated, and his hands disappeared. Perhaps in his invisible state he could get to the computer and figure out some way to stop the attack on the Order.

  He dropped down to the dungeon floor and hit a hammer that sat on the edge of a table. It made a loud noise, but the group of students were too busy to notice. One looked up but saw nothing and resumed work due to Bud’s invisibility.

  Bud tiptoed over to the old man on the floor. The man still breathed but was bleeding. Bud’s heart sank as he recognized him. He hoped the stress of the days past played tricks with his eyes. Bud couldn’t hold his concentration for invisibility anymore and turned back. He wanted his grandfather to see him before he died.

  “Grandpa, it’s me. Buddy.” He held his grandfather’s hand.

  Bud’s grandfather opened his eyes wider and attempted to speak. “Backdoor…password…is…”

  “There is a backdoor passcode? What is it?”

  Bud’s grandfather bled out in front of Bud’s eyes. Bud felt sick with emotion. Memories of his childhood flashed through his mind: the museum visits, the books he and his grandfather shared, the simple words of encouragement. The love they shared. He hugged his grandfather and wept uncontrollably. Too much to bear.

  His grandfather’s heart stopped, and labored breathing ceased.

  The students in the room grabbed Bud and tore him away from his grandpa.

  “Who the hell are you?” one short student asked.

  “We better throw him in one of those cages down here,” another female student said.

  “No, just kill him now. We could use the fresh blood, and I don’t want the old man’s blood,” a large pimply-faced male student said.

  Bud’s arms were pulled behind him. Two of the students held him with their forearms around his neck.

  Bud concentrated once more. He turned invisible.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Bud pushed them off him with a rage like no other, a fury driven by vengeance and retribution. The student vampires who held him hit the ground hard. Bud ran away from the group of corrupted students. He appeared near the hallway at the front of the workshop, Cranky the crossbow in hand.

  Bud fired bolt after bolt at the group of students who ducked underneath the tables for cover. Bud was fairly certain he’d hit a vampire in the shoulder. He needed to prevent them from initiating any other Bert bots.

  His bolt quiver kept refreshing with ammo, magically.

  Maeve! I need assistance in the dungeon. Over.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  MAEVE ELIZABETH II

  Maeve thrust the sword at Elizabeth’s stomach. Elizabeth dodged it with a spin to the right.

  “The metal of that sword will not kill me,” Elizabeth taunted.

  “No, but it will do some major damage.” Maeve backed up and waited for Elizabeth’s next move in the hopes of a counterstrike.

  “Your arms are awful thin. You sure you have the strength to fight me?” Elizabeth observed Maeve’s bared arms and black tank top.

  The vampire bride moved in close and feigned a stab with the stake she held and kicked Maeve in the midriff. Maeve crashed throug
h the stone wall next to the doorframe but quickly picked herself up from the rubble.

  Elizabeth laughed. “You are one tough human.”

  Maeve regained her fighting stance and eyed a torch in the hallway out of view of Elizabeth. When she came closer, bam.

  Elizabeth charged Maeve.

  Maeve quickly grabbed the torch and sidestepped her charge. Maeve dropped the torch’s flame on Elizabeth’s back.

  “Ah!” Elizabeth screamed as her hair set on fire.

  Elizabeth ran into the wall opposite the infirmary with her flaming head. She fell to the ground in agony.

  “Go easy on the hairspray.” Maeve drove her sword through her back.

  The blade burned Elizabeth’s flesh. Smoke billowed from the blessed blade.

  Elizabeth lay immobile. Her hand lost its grip on the wooden stake, and it rolled to Maeve’s feet.

  Maeve picked it up and finished the job. Stake through the heart.

  “Hello, I am Ivy, a friend of Bud and Maeve, monks of the Order of St. Michael. You and the whole Order are in danger. Especially the monks in Chicago. A robot is coming to kill Order members in Chicago imminently,” Ivy explained, her voice low but urgent. She hadn’t a clue who might be near. Vincentas probably lurked the halls, fuming mad.

  She heard footsteps outside the room in the dining hall.

  “I understand. I will try my best to warn them now! Thank you!” An older male voice sounded through the phone’s receiver.

  “Are you a monk?” Ivy forgot to even ask with whom she talked to.

  “Yes, Father Kieran. You called the right place.”

  “I have to go. Good luck, Father.” Ivy hung up the phone as quietly as possible.

 

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